


I don't wanna wake up from this tonight

by salvatorestjohn



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Blood Sharing, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Humor, Hurt Damon Salvatore, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Making Up, Mentioned Mary-Louise, Protective Lorenzo "Enzo" St. John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 17:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20979701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvatorestjohn/pseuds/salvatorestjohn
Summary: Enzo freezes, taking in the sight of Damon in the doorway. His eyes immediately seek out the source of the blood; a moderately-sized hole has been ripped into his shirt, revealing the few bleeding wounds on his chest. The distinct sign of someone who's been unsuccessfully staked in the last hour.It takes him a moment to decide on what he does next. He's torn between shutting the door in his face and going back upstairs to give sleep another go, or stepping outside to help him.





	I don't wanna wake up from this tonight

Strange noises and the random creaking of the floorboards is something about the Salvatore house that Enzo has become used to. It's almost like a routine at this point. Lily's little heretics aren't exactly the quietest for centuries-old vampires, nor are they the best at being discreet when sneaking around in the middle of the night.

He ignores it, like he's grown accustomed to doing. If they want to disobey Lily, let them. He can catch them out tomorrow, right in front of her. At the moment, he has more important things to focus on. Such as, attempting to sleep. 

It's hard, though. Even if the house were in complete silence, falling asleep has been hard since he moved in. It's his own fault, really. Lily offered him the choice of any bedroom he desired in the house. There are four different wings, sixteen rooms that he could have picked, if not more.

He chose this one. He shouldn't have. He caught Lily's confusion when she asked and he told her which one he wanted. Even if one of the heretics had decided to take up residence in it, he was more than willing to make a convincing argument for why they should pick a different one.

Yet, here he is: struggling to fall asleep because of the damn thing. Because of the bed, the sheets, the bloody ceiling when he stares up at in the hopes that everything will just fade away and he'll drift into a pleasant slumber.

Instead, he's practically haunted by the entire thing. Reminded of the times he spent in the room before Lily and her heretics took over the house. No matter which way he turns in the bed, and how tightly he closes his eyes, his imagination wanders, mixing with memories. 

A surprisingly gentle brush of fingertips down his arm. He shifts, pulling the comforter further up. 

A light press of lips to the back of his neck, slowly inching down to his shoulder. He rolls over onto his other side without thinking, trying to shake the feeling away. 

A gentle caress of a hand on the side of his face, coming to rest just by his jaw. He rubs at the area out of frustration, clenching his jaw as he quickly turns onto his back. 

He stares up at the ceiling once more. Back to square one it is then. Sighing quietly, he resigns himself to this.

As if perfectly timed, there's another faint thud from downstairs, capturing his attention. If he's not going to be getting any sleep, he might as well make the most of it. Catching one of Lily's heretics could be interesting, he supposes.

Pushing himself out of the bed, he crosses the room and heads for the stairs. He moves quietly through the house, glancing down the hallways as he goes. Nothing moves, not even a split-second telltale blur hurrying to hide away in one of the rooms.

He gets all the way down to the foyer without any sign of the source of the noise. Then it comes again, clear and sharp this time. He swivels around to face the front door curiously, his brow furrowing. 

Sure to keep on guard, he approaches it cautiously. Any uninvited guests at the Salvatore home never ends well, as he's learned from being surprised by them and being the uninvited guest himself. Still, he's sure that whoever it is, he's more than capable of turning them right around and sending them on their way. 

It's only when he's an inch away from opening the door that he notices it. The scent of blood. It's strong and unmistakable, especially to someone who's entire being is wired to being able to pick up that one scent. 

He opens the door, prepared for whatever sight is about to behold him. Except for the one he's faced with.

Enzo freezes, taking in the sight of Damon in the doorway. His eyes immediately seek out the source of the blood; a moderately-sized hole has been ripped into his shirt, revealing the few bleeding wounds on his chest. The distinct sign of someone who's been unsuccessfully staked in the last hour. 

It takes him a moment to decide on what he does next. He's torn between shutting the door in his face and going back upstairs to give sleep another go, or stepping outside to help him. 

He settles on neither. Staying in the doorway, he eyes him as if the sight in front him doesn't faze him in the slightest. As if he's not at all concerned by the fact that Damon is bleeding, doubled-over, and practically struggling to breathe while using the wall on his left to keep himself upright. 

Not at all concerned, he thinks as he presses his lips together tightly. 

"What are you doing here?" he asks, forcing himself to keep his voice void of any emotion except for a touch of irritation. 

Damon lifts his head to look at him, as if noticing him for the first time. Honestly, by the way that his eyes seem to focus and unfocus rapidly as he blinks, Enzo can't be sure that he isn't. By the looks of it, he's a good minute away from collapsing. 

"I didn't know where else to go," Damon says, swallowing past the crack in his voice. He throws in a halfhearted attempt at a shrug. "And this did used to be my house, so, you know. Habit and all."

"If you haven't noticed, you don't live here anymore," Enzo says, his eyes darting back to his chest as he tries to figure out if it's as bad or worse than it looks. He's going to take a rough guess and say worse. 

A choked noise passes Damon's lips, somewhere between a chuckle or a scoff, maybe. It's hard for Enzo to tell as he looks back up at him in alarm, fearing that he might actually be about to collapse like he guessed. He's partly expecting the noise to turn into coughing up blood at this point. 

Thankfully, he doesn't. Enzo tries not to be even a little relieved by that. But he watches Damon sway and have to lean his entire left side against the wall. His eyelids are drooping slightly, and his skin is glistening with sweat. Maybe the staking wasn't so unsuccessful.

"Guess I'll be going then," Damon manages to breathe out, plastering on a lopsided grin. "Sorry to intrude."

He goes to push himself away from the wall, attempting to straighten up. Panic rises inside of Enzo, and it takes every bit of self-control he possesses not to surge forward and keep him steady. 

"Wait," he quickly says instead, unable to stop himself from that, at the very least. 

Damon listens, turning back to him. He's still swaying on the spot, and Enzo has to force himself not to tell him to lean back on the bloody wall so that he can be sure he isn't going to collapse. 

"What happened?" he asks, deciding that he needs to know. If he lets Damon walk away now and then finds out tomorrow that he's disappeared or was found dead in the woods, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. 

"Oh, you know," Damon says, trying to act all casual as he waves a hand around him, "just the usual. It would seem that I've pissed the heretics off to the point of wanting to kill me. Well, more than usual, anyway."

Enzo refrains from cursing. Out loud, anyway. He certainly does inside of his head. Of course it was the bloody heretics. Just as he was thinking that they weren't going to be his problem.

"Which one?" he can't help but ask.

Damon shrugs. "Uh, I think it was...tall one. Blonde? Super mean. A bit like Caroline, actually."

"Mary-Louise," Enzo mutters. He's not even surprised. 

"Yeah, her," Damon nods. "She staked me. I mean, she missed, clearly. But, uh...I think there may or may not be a few splinters still inside of me, because it's been hard to breathe for the last ten minutes or so, and I sort of feel like I'm on fire."

Enzo looks at him. He wants to turn away. Go back inside, leave Damon to figure it out on his own, like he made him do time and time again. He should. After everything, he owes Damon nothing. If anything, Damon owes him. 

"I thought watching you in pain would be far more satisfying," he says, a bitter edge to his voice. He sighs. "You clearly have a death wish. But apparently, so do I."

He steps out, brushing off Damon's look of confusion, and takes his arm, helping him stay upright. A little pang of relief hits him in the chest at no longer having to watch him struggle to do so. 

Knowing how much noise attempting to sneak him up the stairs while he's injured would cause, he opts for vamp speeding them up instead. It works, going straight into the room he's been occupying. Maybe he'll be too out of it notice. 

He pushes Damon gently onto the bed and is met with no argument aside from a groan that Enzo's sure comes more from pain than it does his protests of being made to sit down. 

"You're a bloody idiot," he tells him even as he sinks down in front of him while Damon adjusts on the bed. "Lily could have answered that door. Or any one of her heretics. Mary-Lousie could have already been back and decided to finish off the job the second she saw you."

He rips Damon's shirt right down the middle without a thought, knowing he won't care. Probably. He just tosses it off to the side as he focuses his attention on the problem at hand. Or at least the most important one. The wounds somehow seem worse like this. 

His mind shifts for just the briefest moment. A flash of Damon wounded and bleeding through those four little bars, thrown into his cell without a care. His groans and gasps of pain as Enzo did everything he could to distract him while the gaping wounds on his chest healed.

"But it was you," Damon says, flashing him a weak grin. 

That does nothing to help the gutwrenching feeling currently tugging at every nerve in Enzo's body. It just forces another snapshot of a memory to the front of his mind. That same weak grin, eyes shining up at him as they joke and laugh as best they can while trying to ignore the inevitable.

Enzo shakes it off and ignores him. Has to bite his tongue, in fact, and force himself to focus again on the bleeding wound in front of him. There are at least four of them, he thinks, all small but surrounded by the torn flesh of what is clearly where the rest of the stake entered his chest.

"This doesn't change anything," he tells him as he gets to work, digging his fingers into the first wound. Damon hisses in pain, but Enzo just keeps going. "I'm still mad at you for everything that you've done to me, and I have no desire to see Lily hurt as you do."

His fingers brush the first splinter and he manages to get a grip on it. He pulls it out, and Damon takes a moment to respond, breathing out at the temporary relief. It hits him as well at seeing his pain lessen a little.

He places the wood chip on the discarded shirt as Damon lifts his head back up to look at him.

"But you don't want to see me dead either?" he says, and surprisingly manages to not sound smug about it. His voice shakes slightly, but it's phrased as more of a question. Uncertain and curious. 

Enzo drops his gaze. He isn't going to just confirm it for him like that, even if it's true.

He starts on the next splinter, grimacing as he digs his fingers into the wound. Damon manages to catch his groan halfway, clenching his teeth and forcing it back down. It doesn't make it any easier for Enzo, and he instinctively finds himself trying to be gentler. 

Hearing Damon in pain has never been something he's been able to handle well. As proven by the many more nights he found himself on that table when they tried to take Damon instead and he insisted that he had more energy even though he barely had a sliver more than him. 

Damon's eyes dart away as Enzo presses a little further, feeling the edge of the splinter. He curses Mary-Louise silently and decides that he's not going to hesitate to catch her out when she starts sneaking around the house late at night again. He might even just find an excuse for Lily to accompany him while he does.

"Nice room," Damon jokes when he manages to pull the splinter free of his chest, tossing it beside the other one. "I can't believe Lily actually put you in my room. Sort of expected her to take it for herself if I'm honest, but this — she's really outdoing herself."

Enzo pauses. He starts on the next splinter, keeping his eyes focused on the wound and his hands.

"Actually, she let me choose," he informs him casually. 

The room goes quiet. He should be relieved. Silence is much better at the moment considering every word is risking them getting caught by one of Lily's heretics. That would be perfect. He should definitely be relieved. He would be, except he can feel Damon's eyes on him. 

"Oh," Damon says quietly as Enzo carefully digs his fingers deeper, trying to locate the splinter. "Oh, I get it. You took my room to prove a point to me. Lily loves you, I'm no longer welcome here, and you can have whatever you like, including my room. That's it, right?"

Enzo's brow furrows, and he can't help but pause to lift his eyes to him. 

"You seriously think that's why I chose your room? Out of sixteen rooms, you think I chose yours to prove a point to you — one that, doesn't even make sense considering you would never have known if you hadn't shown up here, bleeding on the doorstep? Because I want to prove that I'm somehow replacing you in your own home?"

"Well, I'm not really seeing another reason," Damon says, and doesn't comment on how it's no longer technically his home. 

Enzo scoffs quietly, shaking his head. He lets it drop, busying himself with continuing his search for the splinter. He knew he shouldn't have said anything. If he had just let Damon ramble on, this would be over a lot faster, and with far less excruciating conversation. 

"No, please. Do go on," Damon says. "I'm curious then. Why choose my room when, as you said, there were many available?"

Enzo clenches his jaw and doesn't answer him. 

"Is it the view from the window?" Damon prompts, refusing to let it go. Enzo has a feeling by the way he says it that there's a reason behind his irritating persistence. "Or is it the bed? It is pretty comfortable. Or maybe it's the sheets? You did always like them. In fact, weren't these exact ones your favouri—"

He doesn't mean to, but when he finally manages to locate the splinter with his nails, he slips while trying to yank it out, caught off-guard by Damon's words that seemed to be flowing out of him without sign of stopping. 

Damon's swiftly cuts off, any end to that sentence quickly turning into another groan of pain. Enzo's eyes widen, glancing up at his face in panic. The splinter was already further in than he liked, too close to his heart, and he's just made it worse. 

"Damn it, hang on," he mutters and tries again. "The bloody thing is slippery."

"Yeah, it's sort of slipping towards my heart," Damon says, his voice catching. "And making it quite difficult to breathe."

Enzo curses but focuses. His finger brushes against it again, and he carefully regains his grip on it. He pulls it out a little more cautiously this time, steadying himself with a hand on Damon's shoulder, and succeeds. 

Damon inhales immediately, the relief settling in the both of them. Enzo just sighs, closing his eyes as he sits back. That was too close. Even just the tiniest graze to his heart would have been enough.

"Well," Damon says, sounding a little more breathless than he had before, "that was fun. Thanks for, uh...you know, not letting me die, and all. I know how hard that is since you hate me."

Enzo opens his eyes to look up at him, exasperation quickly replacing any sort of relief he was feeling. Mostly.

"After all this time, you still don't get it, do you?" he says, shaking his head. He practically scoffs as Damon's eyebrows lower an inch or two. "You still think I'm actually capable of hating you. And to the point of being willing to let you die."

"You don't hate me?" Damon questions in genuine confusion, and Enzo has to resist the urge to groan. 

"No," he says instead. "I'm mad at you for betraying me and abandoning me. Again. And not giving a damn about me when your friends are involved, which is pretty much always."

"And yet you still don't hate me...?" Damon says uncertainly, the thought only adding to his growing confusion. 

Enzo really can't blame him. At this point, even he doesn't understand it.

"Apparently not."

"So..." Damon shakes his head, his eyes darting around the room again, "...what's the deal with my room then? If you're not trying to prove some ridiculous point, which we've made clear you aren't, then...?"

Enzo sighs, finally placing the splinter down with the rest. He stays quiet, staring at Damon's chest. Three of the wounds have healed up already, leaving behind splotches and smears of blood, as well as one last little wound. 

"I'm nearly done," he tells him, ignoring his question.

He carefully digs his fingers in to locate the last splinter courtesy of Mary-Louise. Now he has another reason to dislike her, as if he didn't already have enough just from living with her for a week or two. 

"Come on, there must be a reason," Damon presses. "You wouldn't—_ah_—you wouldn't have chosen my room otherwise. I mean, Stefan's has a much better view. So, was I right? Was it for the sheets?"

Enzo rolls his eyes, his exasperation finally reaching its limit. 

"You know why, Damon," he snaps. "Because I physically can't hate you. And not hating you means still loving you, somehow. So, yes, I specifically asked for your room because of the sheets, but also because this is the closest I can get to you right now, both because Lily's heretics would probably rip my head off, and because you don't give a damn, like always. And yet, for some completely insane reason, even after everything you've done to me, I still miss being in here with you. I'm so sorry for missing a bloody idiot who doesn't even think twice about me unless it's to figure out how you can use me against Lily."

Damon's quiet. He blinks, slow and digesting his words as he stares at him, his lips slightly parted and clearly caught off-guard. Just holding his gaze for even a second has that little piece inside of Enzo's chest softening right away, like it always does, and he hates it. 

It shouldn't even still be there. He should hate Damon. That piece inside his chest that's the part that clings to Damon and every single feeling he's ever had for him should have crumbled and been destroyed years ago. 

But it wasn't. He gives into it, unable to help himself. 

He pulls the last splinter free with ease but doesn't pull his hand back right away, lingering against Damon's skin.

"Besides," he adds, not looking up, "I'm used to your bed. Trying to adjust to another would be pointless."

Even without looking at him, he can see the corners of Damon's mouth quirk up. He smiles down at him, his eyes soft around the edges, as is every other part about the way he looks at him in that moment. Enzo tries not to let it get to him.

"If you don't hate me too much," Damon starts, and Enzo huffs out another quiet scoff, "maybe I could sleep here tonight. Just for tonight. You know, while I heal and all. Getting home might be a bit difficult considering I'm not even technically supposed to be in town."

Enzo finally looks up at him. He wants to say no. He _should_ say no. But this is Damon. Somehow, the one word isn't even considered an option to his mind, as much as he likes to at least pretend.

He's been trying his best to hate him for the past few months, but it's like he said; he just can't for some reason, no matter what. Plus, Damon has a point about getting home, even if they both know that he's already healing up and will probably be fine to find his way out of town without further problems in a few minutes. 

If one of the heretics catch him in the middle of town at night again, Enzo's got a feeling that Damon's going to end up with more than a few splinters to worry about. And sleeping in his bed alone every night only reminds him of how much he misses him. 

So, saying no isn't even an option that he really considers for more than a second. Still, this_ is_ Damon.

Refusing to voice his answer and give him the satisfaction, he leans up instead, giving it in the form of pressing his lips to his like he's done so many times before. He doesn't care right now. He can't. 

Kissing Damon is like finally being free of Augustine all over again, as crazy as it sounds. Damon is kissing him back in a heartbeat. A familiar passion sparks to life, his hands moving to either side of his neck as if on instinct, and Enzo melts.

He follows, pushing himself up and letting Damon pull him in closer as his head tilts the tiniest bit, just like he always does. 

"Still mad at me?" Damon asks when they break apart for breath as he flicks his eyes up to meet his.

"Yes," Enzo replies without missing a beat before surging back in. He's now on his feet, but leaning into Damon whose hands have already slipped from his neck to his waist, better adjusting their positions and gently tugging him forward. 

His fingers push slightly at the bottom of his shirt, barely brushing his skin underneath, and Enzo's getting the message.

Damon lets him push him back without protest, simply using his arms to prop himself up. He eyes him up and down as Enzo starts to pull his shirt off. 

"Good," Damon breathes, and Enzo just barely catches his smirk once his shirt is off. "That always makes it better."

"I have to disagree," Enzo says dryly. "It's much more fun when I'm not considering snapping your neck."

"Ooh," Damon's smirk only widens, wiggling his eyebrows at him. "You've gotten kinky."

Enzo rolls his eyes, even if the corners of his mouth tug up the tiniest bit. He tosses his shirt aside, ignoring him. Is this even a good idea? He's not sure when the last time he made one of those was, but he's certain that this can't qualify. It's Damon, after all, and he should know better by now.

"Hey." Damon's voice is soft as he pushes himself up, his hands moving back to Enzo's waist, drawing his eyes back down to him. Clearly his goal as he widens his eyes an inch or two. "I'm kidding, alright? If you're seriously mad at me, I'll stop. It's not any fun if you can't even look at me. I actually do prefer it when you're not mad at me."

Enzo holds his gaze. He silently curses himself as he softens immediately, unable to help himself. He can tell that Damon's being sincere, and of course that's all it takes. 

"I'm not completely mad at you," he admits with another roll of his eyes. 

Damon's face brightens. He starts to lean up, his hands still settled on his waist. 

"Just one more thing," Enzo says before he can stop himself.

Damon stops, peering up at him in confusion. He sighs, and a part of him doesn't even want to ask. There's about a sixty-forty chance of what the answer's going to be, and he's got a hunch that he knows which one he's likely to get. 

"Elena," he says, looking him in the eyes. "I know she's a bit of a sore spot right now because of Lily, but...I can't do this if you're still technically in a relationship with her. I mean, the whole love of your life thing and all; I'm not really up for competing with that tonight."

Damon's face falls. Here it comes. The regret at asking at all is already seeping in, that little voice in the back of his head telling him what an idiot he is for not being able to just go through with it. It would have been so easy.

And it's not like he's really competing with anything right now considering Elena is going to be in a coffin for another sixty years or so. One night really wouldn't have been that big of a deal. But of course, he had to ask. 

Damon shakes his head slowly, and Enzo prepares himself to quickly move away from him and brush this whole thing off as dodging a bullet. It probably wouldn't have been a good idea anyway. 

"First of all, if you haven't noticed, Elena is currently in a box," Damon says to him, raising his eyebrows. "And, before she fully went into her magical coma, she told me to live my life. Be happy and to not hold myself back for her. In a shorter way of saying it: I am not currently in a relationship, nor am I holding onto the idea that I am still going to be in one when Elena does finally wake up."

Enzo blinks in surprise. That's not quite what he was expecting. 

"And..." Damon starts leaning up again, his fingers brushing across his skin. "I'm a vampire. I don't technically have one love of my life. And even if I did, strictly speaking, you were in my life first..."

Enzo can't help but be caught off-guard, his surprise growing. Since the moment he was free of Augustine, all he's heard is how Elena is Damon's one true love. Even when he flipped the switch. It was always Elena. Hearing that maybe that wasn't so accurate after all sparks something inside of him. 

Damon just smiles back at him, his expression far softer than Enzo thinks it has any right to be. 

"Damn it," he says under his breath, knowing he's lost all chance now. 

He leans back down without a second thought, finally giving in to Damon's hands and tempting eyes. His lips are met with a happy little noise on Damon's part, slipping past his own as he presses up into the kiss. 

"Knew you were still an incurable romantic," Damon mutters against his lips, barely pausing for breath. His mouth curves though, his smile becoming a part of the kiss.

"As if you're not," Enzo says back. "You're even worse than me, love, and we both know it."

He deepens the kiss, not leaving room for Damon to even try and argue. Not that he seems to mind.

Damon flips them over with the ease of a vampire, everything a split-second blur before they settle at the top of the bed in a far more comfortable position. Even so, Enzo pulls back as best he can, staring up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What? I'm injured!" Damon argues in response to the silent question of what he's doing. "It takes a while to heal, you know."

"Which is why—" Enzo flips them back over in the skipped beat of a heart, "—you shouldn't have to do all the work. It'll be easier for you to heal."

They both know that's a lie. Mostly, anyway. He'll heal pretty much the same either way, but they've figured out over the years that it does tend to have some minuscule effect on the process. 

Damon just stares up at him with narrowed eyes. A part of him wants to backtrack, take it back. He's realizing that something slipped in his voice when he said it would be easier, something that used to be reserved for reassurances through the walls of a cell. 

Something flickers across Damon's face. Then, his expression softens a touch and he shrugs beneath him. 

"Alright," he concedes, no hint of further argument to be found anywhere in his voice.

Enzo can't help but want to question him right away. This is what he wanted, and yet, something feels too easy about it. Damon is one of the most stubborn people he's ever known. Giving in with such a simple argument isn't his style. 

But, he supposes he's probably still feeling the effects of being staked no more than an hour ago. They heal fast, and maybe the pain of the process has been dulled thanks to Augustine building up their tolerance, but they still feel it. Damon probably just sees that he's right. 

Something tells him that that isn't quite it. If it were just that alone, Damon wouldn't have said it in such a soft tone, the one that's so un-Damon like and is exactly the Damon that he remembers. No, there's something else.

In all honesty, though, Enzo doesn't care. There's no use in pressing it, not when it's what he wanted. And doing so would probably result in Damon stopping looking up at him in the way that he is right now, and Enzo isn't so sure he's ready for that yet. Maybe tomorrow. But for tonight, he wants that look to last as long as he can make it stay. 

Without further question — unspoken or otherwise — he leans back down. He's met by a more than eager Damon, anticipating his move and tilting his head up to catch him. It's all too familiar when their lips meet and they're both moving on instinct. A passion that Enzo hasn't felt in years sparks alight in his chest, hurrying to spread through the rest of him like flames consuming an entire forest. 

He hadn't even noticed when he kissed him the first time. But now, with their movements slowed and his head a little clearer, the kiss speaks of a longing that he's endured for years but was entirely unaware was even remotely reciprocated.

He was so sure that Damon's feelings were limited to the few nights they spent together, nothing more. He had accepted that — accepted that while he clung to one of the only things keeping him going for fifty-three years and fell headfirst into a hopeless fantasy of the idea that he'd finally find true love after the endless cruelty of the universe, Damon merely saw him as convenient half the time and his standby friend the rest. Even if he didn't entirely believe it, he accepted it. 

Except, now, Damon's kissing him as if time itself doesn't exist and there's nowhere else he would rather be. His movements are slow and gentle, but fuelled by that little spark of _Damon_ that already has Enzo breathless.

He leans into the hand Damon slips up the side of his neck, lingering for a moment, his fingers brushing along the stubble lining his jaw before moving to curl around the back of his neck and pull him in deeper. Enzo doesn't protest, simply adjusting his position with an arm on either side of him.

If he's entirely honest, he would be content to keep things how they are right now. Just the two of them, alone, rekindling the tiny flicker of a flame that he thought had been blown out. Kissing Damon is easy, and he enjoys it more than he thinks he's enjoyed anything else, really. He'd definitely be more than alright with staying like this.

Damon's other hand starts out on his chest, just enough space left between them for it to be comfortable, then moves to his shoulder as if going to join the other on the back of his neck. Instead, he lets it travel down the length of his left arm slowly. It's like he's mapping out every inch of his skin, tracing invisible scars with the tips of his fingers.

Enzo pauses briefly, his forehead pressed to Damon's as he turns his head slightly and glances at their hands. Damon's fingers are stroking the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist, nudging at the bottom of his palm while his thumb moves over the back of his hand. 

Shifting his weight from his hand, he lets it travel up Damon's arm. He pauses for a moment, letting his fingers brush lightly along his palm before sliding them up between Damon's. They lace together but Damon's already pulling him back into a kiss to distract him from it. 

He barely notices doing the same with his other hand until Damon's arms are stretched just above his head and he's pressing his hands into the pillows beneath them, lost in the folds of those damn silk cases.

He would blame them for this entire thing if he wasn't well aware that his only reason for choosing the room is currently underneath him, tilting his head up to keep kissing him.

Enzo diverts his attention, moving his lips away from the kiss and to his jaw. Damon tips his head back and to the side without question. Enzo can't help but smile a little against his skin before pressing a kiss to it, then a few inches to the right, and then his throat. 

"Go ahead," Damon breathes when he lingers for just a second, making him lift his head back up to look at him. He flashes him an alluring smile in typical Damon fashion. 

"Are you sure?" Enzo asks doubtfully. He had been thinking about it, but he was simply remembering the times that he had done it before, not considering actually doing it. "You haven't exactly finished healing. I don't think me feeding from you is going to speed the process up any."

"Aw, look at you being all chivalrous and caring about me."

"What exactly was I doing when I dragged you in here and pulled splinters out of you?" Enzo questions, furrowing his brow.

Damon rolls his eyes but he lets it drop. Like he always does when he knows Enzo's right.

"I'll be fine," he says instead, opting for reassurance over teasing. At Enzo's unconvinced look, he continues. "Seriously. I'll be all good in another few minutes. I'm not going to pass out from you feeding from me. Promise."

"You nearly have before," Enzo points out, and almost doesn't want to simply because it means remembering that particular time, and he'd really rather not. But it's playing on his mind, and he can't just let it go.

The memory of Damon very nearly slipping unconscious when he didn't realize just how little blood he had in his system is too hard to shake. It was during the few weeks they spent together when Damon was being all Elena-less. It's safe to say that he got a little reckless during those weeks, even with his own health.

He remembers panicking and having to get Damon to feed on him until he was sure he was alright. At least enough for him to briefly leave him in search of the nearest person that would ensure he wasn't about to pass out on him for real.

"This time is different," Damon insists. "Trust me. I wouldn't say that it's okay if it's not."

Enzo still hesitates. Damon just holds his gaze, widening his eyes the tiniest bit as if it'll further convince him. The damn trick actually works, too. 

"Fine," he sighs, caving under his gaze. "But if you pass out, I'm leaving you in here for Mary-Louise to finish the job."

Damon grins, triumphant and not even bothering to hide it as he ignores his very clearly empty threat. He then gives an expectant nod of his head, his fingers flexing slightly underneath Enzo's hands. 

Enzo leans back down, picking up where he left off. Damon tips his head back once again, giving him all access to his throat. A little part of him can't help but question how Damon is so trusting of him — of anyone, really.

After everything, he could never bring himself to give people the same level of trust and vulnerability that Damon seems to be more than happy to give away without a second thought. Until Damon, that is. It took time, but it was easier with him than with anyone else. 

With the thought lingering in the back of his mind, he takes his time. He's careful as his lips press against his skin, barely touching it, but just enough before he brushes them to the side. With each light press of his lips, every teasing kiss, Damon's hands shift underneath his own, squeezing slightly. Without even looking at his face, Enzo can feel his frustration building. It's the calm type though. The one that he knows if he just applies a little more pressure to...

He feathers his mouth across the column of his throat, feeling it shift as Damon swallows. There's a slight ache in his jaw, and his tongue catches against the sharp edges of his teeth as they extend. He's sure the veins underneath his eyes must be creeping to the surface by now.

Instead of giving in to every urge in his body, he forces himself to hold out. He presses his lips back to his throat, then parts them just enough, allowing his sharpened teeth to graze the skin underneath but not break it.

It has Damon groaning when Enzo leaves it at that and simply reverts back to light, well-placed kisses.

"Okay, clearly you're still mad at me," he says, and Enzo drags his mouth slowly over his throat as it vibrates and the pang of not-quite-hunger grows in his chest. "I know you like to take your time and all, but I'm not a patient person."

"Don't I know it," Enzo mutters while brushing his lips down, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he reaches the bottom of Damon's neck. He presses a kiss where it dips into his collarbone. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I don't plan on torturing you forever."

"Oh, just for a few more centuries then?" Damon asks sarcastically, and Enzo can practically feel his eye roll. 

His smirk grows at knowing it's working. He really isn't all that mad at Damon anymore if he's honest, but he does enjoy frustrating him to no end, especially since he just shows up with no warning and leaves him with pretty much no choice but to help him or watch him die. They both know there was never a question of what he was going to do. 

"Relax," Enzo says, drawing the word out as he slowly inches back up. He settles just to the right of where he had been focusing his attention before, kissing his neck tenderly. He gives his hands a gentle squeeze. "You're supposed to be enjoying yourself."

"I _am_," Damon insists, having to pause for a second when Enzo grazes his skin with a slight nip and he makes a strangled sort of noise in the back of his throat. He clears it, and Enzo smirks again. "I just like getting right to the good part. Although...that's not to say you should stop doing that right away."

Enzo halts in his movements, having been paying a little extra attention to a specific area of his throat, just a little beneath the curve of his jaw. His abrupt pause has Damon groaning again through his teeth, tipping his head back completely as he closes his eyes. 

"You are a nightmare, you know that?" he says. "Most people usually can't wait to go straight to the biting, but not you, _no_."

"Are you really..." Enzo slowly moves his lips across his skin, moving his mouth up to kiss just a few inches to the right of the last, "...trying to tell me..." he tilts his head, presses another kiss just below his ear, "...that you..." he drags his mouth up, his voice lowering as he feels Damon tense beneath him, "...aren't loving every second of this?"

With the way Damon breathes out deeply, he's pretty sure he's got his answer. There's not a hint of real annoyance or frustration anywhere to be found. The complaining is all for show, Enzo's learned. If anything, it's usually Damon trying to drag things out between them. 

"Screw you," Damon says halfheartedly. Then, as if as an afterthought, confesses, "maybe a little bit."

"See," Enzo says quietly, not bothering to move his mouth away even as it curves into a smirk. He simply lets his lips graze the shell of his ear before he drags them back down to his neck. "That's all I wanted to hear."

At long last, he pulls his lips back and lets his fangs pierce through Damon's skin. They sink in with ease, and Damon tenses up immediately at the feeling, his breath catching as Enzo presses down on his hands. 

The tangy taste of blood hits his tongue, sweet and familiar in a way that he's greatly missed for years. Damon relaxes underneath him as soon as the blood starts to flow and Enzo begins to drink, his eyes closing.

He can feel his face shifting, the veins under his eyes pressing up, announcing their presence. He ignores it in favour of pressing further into Damon's neck. His blood warms his throat as he swallows, though it's slow to leave. Damon's breathy gasp of pleasure only adds to it.

As much his body doesn't want to, he pulls back. The gasp quickly turns into a whine.

"Drink," Enzo tells him, his lips still against his skin. "You're weak, I can feel it."

"I told you, I'm fine," Damon says, but when Enzo glances at him, his own eyes are shifting, his veins slithering slowly towards his eyes. "But you know that blood sharing has always been a personal favourite activity of mine, so, I'm not gonna pass you up on that."

Enzo doesn't really buy his excuse for agreeing with him since he knows him far too well, but he doesn't press it. Even so, he gives his hands a gentle squeeze. Damon's thumb moves over his finger, and it's all he needs to know that he understands. 

"Safeword," he reminds him softly, and Damon echoes it back to him in agreement.

Since the first time they did this, they've ensured that they always had an out. Damon was the one to enforce it, for him. It was hard to adjust after Augustine, even to such simple things that were meant to be seen as pleasurable rather than as torture. 

When he parts his lips the slightest bit in preparation, he pauses, making sure. Damon leans forward, and the next moment his teeth are sinking into the skin between his neck and shoulder. It has a sharp pain flaring through him, but then Damon's mouth is attached to his neck and it quickly fades into that hum of pleasure he's missed dearly.

He's quick to follow his lead; he lets his own teeth pierce back through the already half-healed wounds, blood still trickling from the small holes. As he drinks, slow and careful, staying alert to Damon's physical responses, Damon buries his face further in his neck.

He presses down closer to him if even possible, no room left between them at this point. Part of him wants to let go of Damon's hand, at least just one, to be able to feel more of his skin under his touch. See if he still reacts the same to him. He's guessing by the quiet moan that reverberates through his body, pushed in softly from where Damon's still feeding from him, that he definitely does.

It's hard to keep a clear head. Blood sharing makes him woozy at the best of times, but it's been so long, and he's missed Damon far too much. Apparently, longing only makes it all that much better when the wait is finally over.

He can barely keep hold of one thought while Damon's teeth are in his neck and that buzzing spark is flaring through him to touch every little nerve that exists inside of him. Somehow, he still manages to feed on Damon. The little noise he makes in the back of his throat again is more than worth it, as is how he leans up into him, uncaring that there's no place else to go.

It's only once he focuses on the flutter of Damon's heart that he extracts his own fangs. It's not enough for Damon to use the safeword, he knows, but it's close, and he'd rather not let it get to the point of it being required even if Damon doesn't have the same reservations. 

He doesn't pull away at all, though. He simply keeps his face buried in his neck, evening out his breathing with his lips pressed to Damon's skin as Damon continues to drink from him. The feeling is beyond anything Enzo can describe, and he's read The Odyssey front-to-back at least six times.

Instead, he kisses his neck slowly, not enough to distract him, but certainly enough to have him faltering. One of Damon's hand press up against his own almost insistently and he releases it, giving him a little more free rein as he grazes over his neck with his fangs. It makes Damon shift beneath him, his head stretching further to the side and then moving closer. 

There's a hand in his hair immediately, fingers winding through the short strands. They don't stay there for long though, brushing down the back of his neck, over the arch of his shoulder, halfway down his back. Enzo can feel his skin prickling from Damon's touch, wanting to lean into every single brush of his fingertips. 

It's the exact reaction he wanted to get from Damon, and he's almost certain that it's exactly what Damon was hoping for as he keeps it up at a slower pace now as if this is the first and last time he'll ever touch him. The thought makes Enzo's stomach drop, but he pushes it to the back of his mind.

Just a one-night thing, he reminds himself, no matter what romantic crap Damon was spouting about love. He knew it would get him to stop doubting this, and it did, and that's all it was. And he's fine with that. But dread has crept up his spine, following Damon's hand, and he has to swallow. He can't ruin this because of his own pointless fears.

Damon quickly tilts his head as if sensing his train of thought, cutting him off by connecting their lips, his hand finding its way back to his hair. Enzo melts right into it, the taste of his own blood still clinging to Damon. The doubts that were starting to reform dissipate as easily as that underneath Damon's lips and hands and the sincerity of it all.

"Are you okay?" Damon breathes, lips still pressing together. He quickly pulls back but keeps him close with the hand on the back of his neck, looking up at him with almost black eyes. They've always been entrancing to Enzo, trying to pull him into their depths with that wide, curious gaze that sparkles with streaks of bright blue that are hard to look away from. 

Even now, he doesn't want to move, even though he's sure he would enjoy doing that just as much. Damon's fingers are still stroking down his neck, almost soothingly, his other hand still twitching and flexing beneath Enzo's. 

"Fine," Enzo huffs out in reply, even if it's not the most convincing.

Damon's eyes flick up and down his face, his lips still slightly parted. Enzo closes his eyes, dropping his head forward with a quiet sigh. This is what he wanted. He wanted Damon.

He shouldn't be getting caught up on the little details like Elena, or the fact that right after they're done, Damon's going to leave and go back to pretending he doesn't exist until he needs him again. This should be the last time, and he should be fine with that.

He feels Damon stop, his hand coming to a halt on the back of his neck. Enzo focuses himself on the heartbeat beneath him, seeping through his skin. It's stronger now than it had been before, a little faster from the adrenaline.

His hand moves to Damon's chest as he opens his eyes, looking down. He drags his fingers gently across his skin, just above his heartbeat. All of the wounds have healed. With what he drank of Enzo's blood, he should be stronger now.

"Why did you come here?" he asks before he can stop himself. 

"I told you," Damon says. "It was a spur of the moment thing. I got hurt and this was the first place I thought of."

Enzo shakes his head, hearing the slip in Damon's heartbeat and the forced excuse in his voice. "I mean the real reason. I know you didn't just happen to forget that your mother has moved into your home along with the heretic who attacked you in the first place. You're not that stupid, Damon."

Now is when Damon is supposed to make a joke. Enzo is expecting it, and he's ready to just let it go and kiss him until he convinces himself that it doesn't matter. He never used to deflect like this, at least when they were in Augustine together, but he's adapted to it enough to know when it's coming.

Damon doesn't say anything. He takes a moment, and Enzo isn't sure if that's worse. Part of him wants to look up, wants to see the look on his face so that he can at least get an idea of what he's thinking. He can't help but tense at as a floorboard creaks somewhere out in the hall in another wing. 

"Well, I..." Damon starts, but pauses, trying to find the right words.

Enzo notices that his fingers are moving again, slipping up into his hair and back down his neck. It's such a soft, comforting gesture that Enzo wants to hate him for it, but it's also so absentminded that he melts into the touch and can't help but let his eyes be drawn back up to him.

"I missed you," Damon admits softly, gazing at him. "Mary-Louise made a comment about you being here before she staked me, and all I wanted to do was come and see you. Maybe steal you away before my mother gets her grips on you completely. Though, you do look pretty at home in this room."

Enzo chuckles quietly against his better judgement at the ghost of a smirk on Damon's blood-stained lips. He tries to duck his head against it, look away from him because he is falling for this far too easily, but Damon's thumb is under his chin and tilting his head back up, holding onto his gaze.

"You wouldn't exactly know, would you?" Enzo says.

It was a bad move. Now he sounds like a jealous boyfriend if Damon picks it up the way he intended, and he said that he wasn't going to do that to himself. It's bad enough that even _Matt Donovan_ knows that Damon kicked him to the curb, he doesn't need to play right into the role he's been handed.

Damon's smile slips a little, but not completely. "Okay, I deserved that."

Enzo wishes he hadn't said anything at all. He had been relishing in the feeling of having Damon so close just a few moments ago, how he moved, the way he kissed him. This is exactly what he hadn't been able to get out of his mind when he was trying to sleep, and now it could end from just a simple comment. He had thought it would at least last a night.

"I shouldn't have pushed you away," Damon continues though, and the honesty is clear in his voice. "You stuck with me — even when I was infected with the ripper virus, and when I was in the prison world, you tried to find a way to get me out. I shouldn't have ignored all of that."

"Then why did you?" Enzo asks before he can stop himself once again. There's no turning back now. He can't help but think that their situation couldn't be more appropriate for this conversation; they've always had a habit of trying to hold a conversation when they're otherwise occupied. 

Damon shakes his head, his mouth twisting down. "I got scared. Which is hilarious when you think about it after everything. But..." he sighs, and his hand is moving again, rubbing slowly against the side of his neck in a way that makes Enzo want to lean into his every touch. "I just thought it was easier not having you around than getting close again and having to lose you like the last two times."

His words hit like a blow to his chest. Enzo wishes that it didn't make so much sense and that all of the pieces he's been trying to put together for the last few months didn't fit right into place with that in mind. The bitter resentment tries to hold on, and maybe a sliver of it does, deep down, but all Enzo can see and hear is Damon's genuine fear of losing him all over again.

In his mind, Damon hadn't cared. He flipped the switch the first time, but even now, with humanity, he never showed many signs of remorse. At least after he died, he heard his whole speech to Stefan. Both of them. He saw him punch him, too, which he will admit made him rather happy. But it hasn't been hard for Enzo to assume that he wasn't really losing anything at all.

"And now," Damon heaves out a heavy sigh that's half a dry chuckle, "I'm driving you into the arms of my mother. That has to be some sort of sick joke. Please, just tell me right now that you haven't kissed her. I would throw up, and that would ruin the mood we had going here."

Enzo almost wishes he could say that he has, just to see Damon's reaction. But the worry in his voice speaks loud and clear for him, and he's glad that Lily rejected his advance. In truth, he clung to her as one of the last connections to Damon, as pathetic as it may be. If he couldn't have Damon, then why not the woman who turned him into a vampire?

"No, I haven't." He hadn't even realized that Damon had tensed up in anticipation until he relaxes beneath him. "I don't plan to either. Frankly, being in competition for someone's affection is starting to bore me. I'd rather not do it again with another Salvatore when I already know the end result."

"How can you be sure?" Damon asks right away, looking up at him.

Enzo frowns, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He's certain Damon would never encourage him to go after his mother. 

"That you know how it's going to end?" Damon prompts a little more, those entrancing blue eyes wide and unreadable. "I don't know about you, but I still have eternity ahead of me. We're not even close to the end yet. Who knows, maybe it isn't as bad you think."

His words are far too pointed, far too meaningful and honest in a way that he hasn't been with him since Augustine.

If they're not close to the end of whatever is going on between them, then where the hell are they? Because so far, the start and middle have been constant bumps in the ground and he's really not seeing how it could end any other way. 

"I'm still not in any mood to compete just to get a fraction of affection," Enzo says, trying to brush it off.

"You don't have to," Damon quickly says. "Especially not from me. I know that's how I made you feel in the past, and I'm sorry about that — it was stupid and I wasn't thinking properly because I was scared when you came back, because I had never felt the way I felt about you during those five years with anyone else. It terrified me, and I realized that it wasn't there with Elena either. So, I pushed you away and made you feel like you had to win my attention. I never want to do that to you again."

Enzo stares at him, searching, his heart dropping somewhere into his stomach. There's not a flicker of deception to be found on Damon's face as he holds onto his gaze, waiting for him to respond. It might just be the most vulnerable Enzo has seen him, at least since they were in those cells together.

"Do you mean that?" Enzo asks. "This is it? No more games or manipulations."

"None of it," Damon confirms, his mouth curving up. "Just us. You and me. If that's what you want."

"Is it what you want?" Enzo asks, raising his eyebrows.

He wants him to say yes. More than anything does he want to hear Damon say it, even if he's not good with words, because at least then he wasn't imagining it. This whole thing wasn't just some deluded dream conjured up to make knowing that Damon meant far more to him than he did to Damon easier.

A soft huff passes Damon's lips. He smiles up at him, his fingers threading back through Enzo's hair. Enzo allows him to pull him down, his eyes closing as Damon's lips press softly against his own. He kisses him so tenderly it may as well be the first time or one of many in a lifetime of love that he's hoped for since the age of four.

Damon leans their foreheads together. His pulse isn't quite steady in his hand, and beneath the skin of his chest. Enzo counts the beats of it in the pause between them. His fingers almost try to move in sync with them, slowly rubbing circles over the invisible wound that was there on his chest not long ago.

"You're what I want," Damon says at last, his bottom lip brushing over Enzo's. He kisses him again. "I want this."

"Just this?" Enzo prompts, looking at him, needing to erase the last speck of doubt. "No one else?"

"No one else," Damon echoes back to him with another kiss. "Not like this. Just you and me." 

He flicks his eyes back up to meet his gaze. Enzo believes him. He can just feel it this time. He's being sincere, no lies, no half-truths. Elena isn't going to hold him back from any of it or have him pushed aside. And Enzo certainly isn't going to let Lily come between them. Or any of her heretics for that matter.

His mouth curves into a smile, and Damon's follows, his eyes brightening at his unspoken answer. He surges back up, kissing him again. It's faster, but holding the same level of passion and softness. Enzo doesn't hesitate for a second to kiss him back, deepening it with ease, the faint taste of blood still lingering.

He breaks it soon after though, shifting his lips to press at the corner of Damon's mouth, then his cheek, then his jaw. Damon doesn't complain for even a second, tilting his head to oblige as Enzo strings kisses along his neck and throat, and down his chest. 

His teeth graze his skin as he slowly moves down, earning him responses that he has memorized already. Damon squeezes the hand he's still holding onto, and Enzo goes to finally release it, but Damon's fingers stay laced with his own, holding onto it. He pauses by Damon's hip, lips brushing his stomach, lifting his eyes back to his face.

Damon just gazes back at him, and Enzo can't fight the twitch at the corners of his mouth. He distracts it with a light nip at Damon's hip, teeth catching, extending into sharp points over the sensitive skin that has Damon's body tensing and a shaky breath pushing past his lips. 

He keeps his eyes locked with Damon's all the while. Watches the way his eyes flutter for just a second, how his head tilts up the tiniest bit, the way his throat moves as he swallows, holding himself together as he manages to keep looking at him.

This is the Damon that he fell in love with. Open and vulnerable and coming undone with him. It's the side of him that few have seen, and Enzo savours every second as he grazes the dip in his hip, feeling his teeth break the surface of his skin.

"You're absolutely beautiful," Damon breathes out.

Enzo's skin catches alight, and he's at least glad that he can't flush the way he might have as a human. Still, he knows Damon can sense it. He just draws another little noise from his lips with a kiss placed to the two little holes his fangs had started to create.

"And you're breathtaking," he murmurs against his skin, moving to continue his actions.

Damon's pushing himself up before he can, and his hand is back on the side of his neck, guiding him back up. Enzo moves with him and melts into the kiss the second Damon's lips are on his again. Kissing him always feels like the first time, and he can never get enough of it. He can never get enough of Damon if his current situation is any indication.

"God," Damon groans quietly, his movements almost frantic and yet slow somehow. "I love you," he presses against his lips. "So much. Too much."

Enzo's heartbeat is filling his head, clouding it along with the taste of Damon's lips and the feeling of his hands on his skin. He processes quickly, Damon still surging back in to kiss him, barely breaking away for two seconds at a time. 

"Definitely not too much," Enzo replies when he gets the chance, moving his own hand up to Damon's chest, his eyes still closed but an image of Damon's ingrained in his eyelids. "I love you, Damon."

He thinks Damon says something along the lines of "thank god" but isn't sure as he kisses him again before the word is fully out of his mouth. It's almost surreal, leaning into his every touch, kissing him over and over again until he's sure his lips are swollen. This was all supposed to be just a dream inside of his head. But it's so incredibly real.

* * *

Hours pass. Enzo loses track of them, unsure of the time. It's still dark out, moonlight shining through the window in the bathroom, stars speckled across the sky as a perfect backdrop. The lack of any more floorboards creaking tells him it's not early enough for one of the heretics to be sneaking back in to avoid Lily ever knowing they were gone in the first place. He'll catch them in the act eventually, but for once, he's more worried about them catching him. 

His eyes are drawn back into the room, over to the bed. Damon's shifting beneath the covers, staring up at the ceiling with an arm stretched behind his head. He looks so casual with his eyes half-lidded and the faint remnants of a soft blush scattered across his skin. Enzo pauses, taking in the sight of him with a small smile.

He's always thought that Damon is the exact image of what a vampire is expected to be. Youthful features carving his face, with his sharp jawline and wide eyes beneath long lashes that could draw anyone in with the look of innocence that just seems to come naturally to him despite everything. It's as if he was made to be a vampire. Eternally beautiful.

His hair is a tousled mess and curling ever so slightly. A reminder of his humanity. Damon's complained about it a few times before, especially when unable to do a thing about it in Augustine. Enzo's always found it endearing. It makes him wonder what Damon was truly like as a human. Would they have gotten along as well back then as they do now? If only he had even been born at the time to find out.

He turns back to the window for a moment then drops his head forward, looking into the sink he's leaning against. He knows he has to go back out there, but he's hesitating. Why, he can't quite figure out. It's not as if sleeping next to Damon is that unfamiliar to him. It just makes him nervous, especially when there's a high risk of them being caught while they're asleep.

The last thing he needs is Lily or one of her little heretics, apart from Mary-Louise, finding out that Damon has betrayed the agreement and that Enzo has let him. It's practically the definition of sleeping with the enemy in their eyes, and he doesn't want to see Damon hurt further because he encouraged him to stay the night right under their noses.

He straightens up, pushing out a quiet sigh. He then walks out of the bathroom and back into the room, Damon's eyes immediately drawn to him. The smile that slowly curves his mouth has him remembering how it was so easy to fall for Damon through that little gap in their cells. 

"Hey there," Damon drawls, his southern accent sticking through in a way that Enzo is reminded once again he's not from this century or even the last no matter how well he fits in. "Not to sound like your husband, but are you coming back to bed?"

Enzo arches an eyebrow as he reaches the bed, stopping by the end. His lips twitch up. "Husband? You had to get injured and sneak in to get me to talk to you, we haven't lived together since 1958, and your last relationship technically ended with her in a magical coma. I think we're quite a bit away from marriage."

Damon hums, that teasing smile on his lips as he tilts his head. "I don't know. Lorenzo Salvatore has a nice ring to it."

"Who said I would take your last name?" Enzo questions, deciding to humour him. 

"Alright, fine." Damon shrugs. "Lorenzo Salvatore-St. John. It's perfect."

Enzo's eyebrows only raise further, but he huffs out a disbelieving chuckle. He shakes his head, waving a hand at him.

"Is this your way of proposing? Because it feels more like a thinly-veiled attempt to get me back in bed with you."

"Oh, was that thinly-veiled?" Damon asks, widening his eyes. "I am absolutely trying to get you back in bed with me."

Enzo rolls his eyes, but his mouth is tugging up as Damon cracks a grin. Something shifts somewhere in the house, the sound of careful footsteps in the room above him, he's sure as he looks up as if he'll be able to see right through the ceiling.

Or maybe it was someone shifting in their bed. For vampires, they are all rather restless in someone else's house. Lily is the worst; he found her standing in the living room one night, eyeing everything with the expression of someone being haunted.

He catches movement from the corner of his eyes then feels Damon's hand in his. It works in drawing his attention back to him as Damon presses his lips to his knuckles then the inside of his wrist before lifting his eyes to him.

"Stop worrying," Damon says, his tone completely shifting from playful to gentle. His voice is even softer, almost a quiet murmur as if being more careful for him. "No one is awake. They're not going to know I'm here until I'm gone."

"Oh great," Enzo says sarcastically, "then I get left to deal with the aftermath. Mary-Louise is probably going to stake me next for even opening the door to you, never mind letting you stay the night. That's if Lily doesn't get to me first."

"Then don't stay here to deal with it." At Enzo's confusion, Damon goes on right away. "Come with me. I'm practically living on Whitmore's campus right now, which isn't exactly ideal, obviously, but it's outside of this place. Far enough away that you won't have to worry about any of them."

Enzo can't quite tell if he's being serious. He seems to be, and it's not the worst idea that he's ever come up with. That title would be reserved for thinking he could find a way through the gap in their cells and ambush Doctor Whitmore. He considers Damon's offer carefully. 

The only reason he even wanted to live in this place was because Lily was willing to take him in. It was ridiculous, and Damon was still nearby, but now he's not even in Mystic Falls. He's never really liked the town all that much anyway when he thinks about it, and he certainly wouldn't miss any of the heretics. Or Lily, for that matter. 

The thought that this is just another ploy to get him to help take her down does cross his mind briefly. Damon isn't exactly above using their past to lure him in and convince him after his attempt at being friendly failed.

But he also knows Damon better than maybe anyone. Even if he does want him to help with some plan to take Lily's heretics down once he agrees to go with him, Enzo can tell that it's not the main reason he's suggesting it. 

"Just to clarify," Enzo says, furrowing his eyebrows, "you kissed me, slept with me, asked me to marry you, and now want me to move in with you? All in the space of a night?"

Damon relaxes, an easy grin settling on his face as he shrugs. "What can I say? I like to move fast. It saves time, and when you've got something good, you can't risk letting it go."

"When the bloody hell did you turn into a modern-day romance novel?"

"Now, the modern-day romance novel version of me would say the day I met you," Damon says, and Enzo shakes his head at him to suppress his own grin. "But considering I was being tortured the day I met you, I think that maybe around Thanksgiving would be more accurate. Still technically your fault when you think about it!"

"I distinctly remember all of your accounts of your countless attempts to capture a certain doppelganger's heart," Enzo points out. "I don't think I can take credit for your humanity."

"On the contrary," Damon kisses his wrist again, his other hand moving slowly around his waist, "you were my humanity for those five years. And I definitely learned a few romantic gestures from all of your exploits. That you described in great detail."

Enzo chuckles lightly, still wary of getting caught, but with Damon's lips brushing over his skin, it's harder to keep his attention divided. "To make you jealous and fall madly in love with me, obviously," he jokes with another roll of his eyes.

Damon's eyebrows shoot up and he makes a curious little noise. "Well, it may have taken a few years—" Enzo scoffs at the understatement, "—but it worked. I am head over heels for you, Mr St. John."

"Taking back your proposal already?" Enzo teases, leaning into the hand that's slipped around to rest low on his back.

Damon smirks. "Of course not."

In the blink of an eye, Enzo's on his back, half-pinned to the bed with Damon hovering over him. He huffs out an almost winded breath, laughing despite himself. 

"But I plan on doing this whole thing right for once," Damon says as Enzo barely manages an amused noise of acknowledgement. "So, if that means spending another five years seducing you—"

"Seducing?" Enzo cuts in, lifting his head slightly to raise an eyebrow at him. "I suppose that's better than courting. Although, I have always rather liked the word 'wooing'."

"—Another five years _seducing_ you," Damon continues pointedly as if Enzo hadn't said a word at all, but his mouth twitches in an attempt to smile, "then that's what I'm going to do."

He's so sincere that Enzo can't help but melt just a little. Damon's actually willing to put in the effort, for him. That's all he wanted. For Damon to care. But he looks a little too smug about his position and his plan, and as much as Enzo adores it, he also loves playing with him, which Damon knows far too well to not see it coming.

He gives a doubtful hum and raises a shoulder as best he can. "I don't know, five years seems rather drastic. I mean, is the wait really worth it? It's nothing for us, I suppose, but still."

Damon narrows his eyes at him, and Enzo does his best not to crack. In truth, he doesn't need the five years, but he's spent seventy-five years in love with him, so if Damon wants a few more to do things right then he's sure he'll be more than fine. 

Damon rolls his eyes at him and he slips, grinning. He happily lets go of his act when Damon kisses him, and Enzo settles one of his hands on the side of his neck, pulling him in closer. His mind doesn't quite go blank, but it's what he imagines being content feels like, ignoring the tug of worry still stashed away at the back of his mind.

"A thousand years would be worth it for you," Damon murmurs against his lips.

Enzo's stomach swoops as if it's got some strange fluttering creature stuck in it, and he smiles. 

"Alright, I think you need a drink. I love hearing how much you adore me, but I think you're beginning to forget you're a big bad vampire that's killed more people than either of us can count."

"Hey, I can be the big bad murderous vampire and smother you with love at the same time," Damon argues, pulling back to look at him and is met with a raised eyebrow. "What? I technically have, like, fifty-four years to make up for. You think that I'm not going to take every opportunity I can get now that you're actually talking to me? Did you not listen to a word of anything I told you in those cells?"

"Oh, I did. I had just forgotten how persistent you can be," he replies, but he's not complaining. Then he sighs. "The suggestion of a drink wasn't just for that. After having to heal yourself on my blood alone last night, you're going to need something to recharge, and I'm running rather low myself."

"And you warned _me_ about letting you feed on me while I running low."

Enzo rolls his eyes and ignores him. He gently pushes him off by his chest and sits up, getting back off of the bed. Damon makes his displeasure at that very clear as he reaches back out for his hand again, trying to stop him. 

"You were the one complaining about the risk of getting caught," Damon reminds him. 

"It's not suspicious if I get up for a drink in the middle of the night," Enzo points out. "Just as long as you stay here, they'll be none the wiser. But if you hear someone coming—"

"I'll jump out the window," Damon says with a lilt of sarcasm, but Enzo trusts him not to put himself in any further danger. A terrible idea, he's sure, considering the past, but he's hoping that Damon won't risk anything right now. 

He lets his hand go, and Enzo throws a shirt back on before he quietly leaves the room with the promise that he'll only be two minutes, and then they can leave. He almost feels silly sneaking through the house like this; he hasn't been a teenager for a while, and he never exactly had a relationship when he was, but he imagines that he's acting like one. It's for Damon's safety, though. 

Fortunately, he manages to avoid all of the loose and creaky floorboards, learning from the heretics' mistakes. He makes his way down the stairs and heads for the kitchen. It takes him a second too long to catch the sound of a heartbeat just ahead of him, followed by nearly silent footsteps on the wooden floors. 

He freezes in the doorway, but it's too late. Valerie's already leaned back against the counters, staring at him with a calm look on her face. If anything, she seems bored rather than suspicious. Because it's not suspicious, he reminds himself just as calmly.

He forces a slight smile that isn't returned, then crosses the room over to the freezer. Pulling it open, he hesitates for just a moment, realizing that if he takes two blood bags out, she's likely to ask why. Then again, she's never shown much of an interest in anything he does, so there's a chance he could get away without question. 

He takes two, readying an excuse on the tip of his tongue just in case. When he turns back, Valerie glances at him, then the blood bags. There's a slight twitch in her expression but nothing telling. He eyes the glass in her hand, knowing he needs to at least acknowledge her. They're not friends, but it'll be suspicious if he just rushes out on her.

"I take it you're the source of all the noises I've been hearing around here lately then," he says. "I actually thought it was Mary-Louise who was sneaking out, but I suppose you do make more sense. You're the rebel of the family, aren't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Valerie replies, and he can't tell if he believes her or not. She tips her glass towards him. "You, on the other hand, have been making a fair amount of noise. Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity, you know." She pauses in raising her glass to her lips, raising her eyebrows in mock obliviousness. "Or have you been sneaking someone _in_?"

Enzo stiffens, his blood running cold with panic. It doesn't show outwardly, though he's sure a muscle in his jaw twitches as he straightens up a little, jutting his chin out. He swallows and fakes a chuckle that doesn't sound quite convincing enough to his own ears.

"I'm not a child," Enzo retorts. "I wouldn't need to sneak someone in if I were involved with anyone, which I'm not. So, I'm afraid we're both mistaken."

He goes to walk away, deciding that that's the typical length of a conversation between the two of them. Each second he spends talking to her is another that Lily could wake up, or one of the others could walk right into his room and find Damon.

"You would if they were Damon Salvatore." 

Enzo stops before he's even gotten one step. He slowly lifts his eyes back to her, his heart jumping a beat as he forces himself to remain calm. She could just be taking a guess and happened to hit the mark. Except she doesn't know him that well, and she certainly doesn't know Damon. Even Lily isn't aware of their past.

The look on her face tells him that it's not just a wild guess. Which means she knows that Damon is still in the house right now. Leaving him could have been part of some sort of trap. 

He glances at the ceiling, trying to listen for any sounds that might give something away. Four heartbeats, all calm. No sign of a trap or struggling, except they could have knocked him out already. He said he would go out the window, but there's always a chance that he just wasn't quick enough. 

"Relax," Valerie says with a roll of her eyes, making him look back at her. "I don't care who visits you in the middle of the night. Though I really have to question your taste in Salvatores."

"Says the person who broke the only other Salvatore's heart," Enzo hears Damon say, and quickly turns to him with wide eyes. He's in the doorway of the kitchen, fully clothed again, as casual as if he isn't in a house full of people who would love to kill him without a second thought, staring right at Valerie. 

"What part of stay put didn't you understand?" Enzo hisses through his teeth.

"The part where this is still my house," Damon replies.

Enzo wants to be frustrated with him. It's as if he doesn't see the danger. He would really rather not spend another half hour pulling splinters out of his chest. His eyes dart back to Valerie, because despite her assurance that she doesn't care if he has Damon in the house, he isn't sure that she doesn't have a stake or vervain at hand. 

But she hasn't moved an inch, and she just raises an eyebrow at Damon, giving a dry scoff at his comment.

"If you think that you still have any control of this place — hell, this _town_," she shakes her head, "then you're just deluding yourself. You've been exiled out of your own home by your _mother_. It really should be sinking in by now that you aren't going to win this. Not against Lily."

"We'll see about that," Damon says. 

"Not right now we won't," Enzo says rather sharply, stepping closer to him. "You can't risk your life tonight for this ridiculous revenge fantasy, alright? Tomorrow? Fine. But you have nothing working in your favour tonight aside from me, and I'm afraid that Lily's probably already been suspecting me of some sort of betrayal anyway."

Damon seems like he wants to argue. Enzo knows far too well how reckless he can get, and he's sure that he probably thinks he could take every heretic in the house on his own as well as Lily and come out of it alive. He suspects that he forgets how much faster witches are with their spells compared to their own speed.

"You said you weren't here for Lily," Enzo reminds him, lowering his voice, trying to talk some sense into him before he wakes the whole house and they'll have no choice but to go with Damon's plan which is barely able to be called that at all. "Or were you lying to get me on your side?"

Damon's eyes snap to him, and Enzo already knows that he wasn't. He doesn't doubt his sincerity for a second in everything he said to him, as easy it would be after everything.

But it's gotten Damon's full attention, regret at making him think it for even a second flashing across his face. He backs down from his original argument as he starts to shake his head with a quiet sigh.

"Mary-Lousie and Nora will be back soon," Valerie speaks up from behind them. 

Enzo turns, looking over at her with confusion. She gestures her head and her glass toward the door.

"They're like clockwork. I never know where they're going, only that they leave around one-fifteen and sneak back in close to three-fifty," she tells them. "Considering it's just past three-thirty, I'd say you have about twenty minutes before they come back."

"Why are you telling us that?" Damon asks, eyeing her warily. 

She shrugs, taking a drink from her glass before answering. "Those two have always gotten on my nerves. Nora can be alright some of the time, but Mary-Louise is awful. I don't see why I should do them any favours by letting them gloat to Lily that they caught you breaking the agreement and get to kill you without question. They'll be even more insufferable for weeks, especially if they find out you're the reason he's here."

Enzo glances at Damon uncertainly. He's aware that not all of the heretics get along that well, especially when one of them is Valerie. Beau is the only one she really cares for, so she could be being entirely sincere right now. She isn't exactly running to Lily. Stalling them is always a possibility, but he isn't so sure.

"You'll want to steer clear of the woods around the cemetery," she continues. "They're probably hanging around there to catch any idiots trying to sneak into town. The main road is usually clear, so I'd suggest taking that route, but just make sure you're gone before the sun comes up. Lily likes to wake up early."

This has to be some sort of trick. Except he knows that she's right about Lily waking up early. And he knows the main road is usually clear because he overheard Lily asking Matt to patrol it and his response of there being no point since no one is dumb enough to try and come in through the main entrance. 

"So...you're not going to follow us or tell Lily which way we went?" Damon asks, now staring at her as if he's made some fatal miscalculation at some point. "No witchy tricks, no fake niceness so that you can be the one to tell her you caught us breaking the agreement? No locator spells?"

Valerie scoffs. "Please, like I would want to track either of you down. And frankly, Lily won't either. Sure, she'll be disappointed about her loyal little puppy's betrayal, but so long as I don't happen to mention that you were actually here, she'll just assume that he took off to find you on his own, and that'll be it. No harm done."

She does makes a rather good point. He should be more hurt by that; after all, Lily was the one who turned him into a vampire. Without her, he would have died in the streets of London in 1903. Yet, he can't really bring himself to feel more than a dull ache of something that slips away easily. 

"I still don't understand why you're just letting us go," he says with a shake of his head, something not adding up. He's sure that it's not going to be that easy once Mary-Louise gets back and tells Lily about staking Damon, but he's hoping that it won't matter once they're gone.

Valerie hesitates for a moment. Her eyes glaze over briefly, getting lost in some thought that he seems to have dredged up to the surface. Something akin to what he can only identify as fear passes over her face like a dark cloud.

"If I had a chance to get out, I would have taken it," she tells them, her voice tight as she looks between them. "I'm not going to force either of you to endure a single second of this. Get as far away from all of this, and us, as fast as you can. Don't let it ruin your lives."

Enzo stares at her, trying to figure her out. He knew she didn't fit in, that she was distant, but he never knew why. If she wanted to leave, then why not just do it? She could be gone and in hiding before Lily even noticed. He should have talked to her more. How did being with the heretics and Lily ruin her life?

He doesn't feel like now is the right time to ask. Valerie's giving them an out. If they wait too long and get themselves caught, she isn't going to do it again. And he's certain of what he wants now, far too much to risk letting it slip through his fingers all over again.

Damon isn't quite taking his eyes off of Valerie in case she turns around and changes her mind, but he glances at Enzo. The unspoken agreement passes between them. Enzo can't help but hesitate for just a second, though.

"You could leave, you know," he tells Valerie, deciding he has to at least try. He doesn't know her well enough to care about her, but he also can't imagine having to deal with the other heretics for as long as she has. "Nothing's stopping you."

Valerie's smile is tight and covering up some secret. "I'm afraid something is."

Enzo doesn't entirely like the way she says that. He almost doesn't want to leave her now, either. Something's forcing her to stay, and he knows that she isn't afraid of Lily or even Mary-Louise and Nora, and if it came down to it, she could always find a way to keep in contact with Beau if she couldn't convince him to go with her. There's something else; whatever it is is dark and she's afraid of it.

When he doesn't make a move to leave, Damon finally pulls himself from his own cloud of doubt and places a hand on his arm. He gestures his head in a clear signal, finally willing to trust Valerie enough to not risk finding out if she was telling the truth the harder, much bloodier, way. 

Enzo spares Valerie one last glance of uncertainty, but she's in agreement with Damon. He's sure that she'll be able to take care of herself. Besides, if Damon gets his way, they'll probably be back tomorrow with some half-baked plan to attempt to take down the heretics. One or two of them could easily be spared and get their chance at an escape.

He takes a reluctant step back, gives Valerie a single nod of gratitude, then turns and leaves with Damon. They're out of the house in seconds and taking Valerie's advice. They avoid going anywhere near the cemetery, as well as all of the roads that lead directly from there, and head down one of the backstreets that brings them out through a small cluster of woods right on the border of town. 

Enzo looks at the sign announcing their departure from Mystic Falls. Then he looks at Damon, meeting his gaze and the grin he sends him as he offers a hand to him. Enzo smiles back and takes it without a second thought. They walk right past the sign, leaving everything in Mystic Falls behind with everything he needs at his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Am I still writing for these murderous idiots who have clearly been in love for, like, sixty years? You bet I am. I just have too much love for them, and I'm constantly thinking of new ways for them to express how much they actually love each other despite everything the show tried to tell us. I will forever be bitter that they had Enzo go to Lily just like that and that Damon didn't even really care. Enzo has eyes for one Salvatore and one Salvatore only. Please, tell me all your thoughts about these two! I need more people in my life who enjoy these murder husbands as much as I do.


End file.
